Third Date (8 page)

We spend the next few hours alternating between talking and listening to the band. Around 11, I tell him I have to go. I want to get a decent night’s sleep tonight because I never sleep well at hotels. This will be the last good night’s sleep I have until I get back.

Grant pays the bill and walks me to my car, which is parked right behind his Audi.
 

“Nice car,” I say, pointing at it. We’re standing on the sidewalk, next to my Saturn.

“Thanks. It was a gift to myself for passing the bar.”

“Mine was a gift from my dad so he wouldn’t have to drive me around anymore. I’ve had it since I was 16. I’m hoping to get a new one soon.”

Grant slips his arms around my waist. “So I guess I’ll see you next week. I’ll call you tomorrow. Make sure you got there okay.”

“You don’t have to.” I glance down at his black wool coat. It looks really expensive.

He tilts my chin up. “You don’t want me to?”

“I do, but I’m sure you’ll be busy.”

“I’ll make time.” He leans in and puts his lips to mine and kisses me. No tongue, just his soft, warm lips. Unlike Aiden, Grant knows how to read the signs. He knew the night was going well and went for the kiss.

He stops for a moment and looks at me and I smile, giving him a sign to continue. He pulls me closer, then gives me another kiss. And then another. Just lips, no tongue. In my limited time with him, he seems like a gentleman, not some guy who would shove his tongue down your throat on a first date, like Kayla’s friend, Matt, would do.

I feel his breath on my face as he says, “I should let you go.”

I nod. “Yeah. I need to get home.”

He takes my hand and walks me to the driver’s side of my car and holds the door open. “Have a safe trip.”

“I will. Thanks for the drinks.”

I stand there, not getting in the car. Why aren’t I getting in the car? Because I want him to kiss me again.

Grant once again reads the signs correctly and brings me into him for one more kiss. A longer one this time.

And then I finally get in the car.

“Goodnight, Morgan.”

“Goodnight,” I say as he shuts the door.

I drive off with my mind going in all different directions. What just happened? Am I now dating Grant? It was just one date so maybe not. But it seems like he wants to take this somewhere. He’s calling me tomorrow. Wants to make sure I got to Boston okay. That seems like a boyfriend thing to do.

I’m getting too far ahead of myself. Tonight was just a spur-of-the-moment invite to hang out at a bar and listen to a band. But it ended with a kiss so it was definitely a date. A way better date than the last two I had.

Saturday I arrive in Boston at 7 p.m., three hours later than planned thanks to my plane being delayed because of weather. I go to baggage claim to get my suitcase but it never shows up. After an hour-long wait at the baggage-claim desk, I find out the airline accidentally sent my luggage to Hawaii. That’s right. Hawaii. A place I have never been and will probably never go. But at least my suitcase has been there.

When I get to the hotel, I’m completely exhausted. I head straight to my room to shower. I always feel like I need a shower after being crammed in with all those people on the plane. When I get out of the shower I have to put on my dirty clothes again. I figure they must have a gift shop downstairs in the lobby where I could at least buy a clean t-shirt to sleep in.
 

I go down to the main floor of the hotel. They have a gift shop, but it’s closed. Of course. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow.
 

The lobby is swarming with people who are there for the conference. They’re all nicely dressed, mingling and networking, like I should probably be doing.

Not wanting to be seen in my half-dried hair, no makeup, and dirty clothes, I race toward the elevator, keeping my head down. In my hasty escape, I bump right into someone. And not a light bump, either. It’s more like I crashed into the person, nearly knocking myself over.

“Excuse me.” I hear a man’s voice and feel his hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”

“It’s my fault. Sorry. I wasn’t looking.” I quickly move past him.

“Wait.” The man follows me. “Do I know you?”
 

I arrive at the elevator where a crowd of people are getting off. I’m stuck there and the guy I bumped into is now right next to me. I feel him staring, but I don’t look up. The last thing I need today is some wacko stalker.
 

“Morgan?” He says it loud so I can hear him in the noisy crowd.

I look over and see a guy about 6’2 with dark blond hair and deep blue eyes wearing a white polo shirt and jeans. He’s unusually tan for this time of year. I know him from somewhere, but where?

“Morgan?” he asks again. “It’s Brad Fletcher. Remember me? From high school back in Bloomington?”

Brad Fletcher. I
do
remember him. Two classes ahead of me. Football jock. Homecoming king. Mr. Popularity. Mr. Slept-with-Almost-Every-Girl-in-My-High School. At least that was the rumor.

We both get on the elevator. I have no idea what to say to him, so I say nothing.
 

“Sorry, I guess you’re someone else,” he says. “You just look like this girl I went to school with.”

“No, you were right.” I glance at him, then focus on the panel in front of me, watching the floor numbers light up one by one. This has got to be the slowest elevator ever.

Brad steps in front of me. “I thought it was you. So how have you been?”

“Good.” I’m now staring right at his chest, which is very wide.

The elevator stops and more people pile in, filling every last bit of space. Brad and I get forced to the back and he moves to my side, his muscular arm wedged up against me.

“Are you here for the conference?” he asks.

“Yeah, but the airline lost my luggage so I’m kind of having a bad day.”

“Sorry to hear that. What do you need? I could loan you some stuff.”

I give him a strange look, wondering what he thinks I could borrow from him. The thing I need most is clean underwear and I certainly couldn’t borrow
that
from him. The elevator finally stops on my floor and I get out, with Brad right behind me.
 

“Looks like we’re on the same floor.” He walks down the hall with me. “Do you want to grab a drink? Catch up?”

Catch up? What’s he talking about? I barely said two words to this guy in high school. I can’t believe he even remembers my name.
 

“I feel kind of gross in these clothes so maybe after my suitcase arrives.”

“When’s that going to be?”

“Probably Monday morning. The suitcase is in Hawaii.”

He laughs. “Nice. Bet you wish you were there with it.”

“Yeah. So anyway, enjoy the conference.” I stop at my room.

“I’ve got a rental car here. You want me to drive you somewhere to get some different clothes? I know Boston pretty well. I’ve been here several times.”

I consider the offer. It would be nice to have clean clothes, especially underwear.
 

“Actually, that would be great, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’ll just go tell my friends. They’re heading down to the hotel bar in a few minutes.”

“If you already had plans, we don’t need to go.”

“Don’t worry about it. I see them all the time. Do you need to grab a coat? I can meet you back here in five.”

“Sounds good.” I go in my room and quickly dry my hair, then toss my coat on. When I go back out in the hall, Brad is waiting by the elevator, smiling. He has a really great smile, very warm and friendly, with full lips and really white teeth. I find myself smiling back at him, despite being in a crappy mood from the delayed flight and lost luggage.

“So what do you think?” He checks his watch. “You want to try one of the malls out in the suburbs? We may not make it there before they close. But I saw a Target when I was driving here from the airport. They’re open late.”

“That’s perfect. Let’s go there.”

I’ll be able to get a six-pack of hi-cut cotton briefs to add to my collection. Paige and Kayla will love that.

In the car, Brad starts reminiscing about high school. I don’t remember half the people he’s talking about. But I like listening to him. He has a deep soothing voice and he talks a lot which puts me at ease.
 

“You can wait in the car if you want,” I say when we get to the store.

“I’m not letting you go alone. This is a big city and it’s late. It’s not safe.” He gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. The parking lot is riddled with ice and I slip.
 

Brad catches me around my waist. “Whoa, that was close. Here, grab on.” He holds his arm out for me. I take it, not wanting to add a hospital visit to my already horrible day.

When we get in the store, I pick out a pair of pants and some shirts, then head to the underwear aisle. Brad follows me there.
 

“Could you maybe wait up front?” I ask him. “I’ll be quick. I promise.”

He seems confused until he notices the racks of bras and panties. “Yeah, okay. I’ll wait up front.”

I finish my shopping and check out and meet up with Brad, who’s standing by the door.

He offers me his arm again as we walk through the parking lot. “You want to grab a bite to eat?”

I haven’t eaten since this morning and I’m starving. “Sure. I don’t know the city, so you pick the place.”

He finds a little diner downtown. They serve breakfast all day so I order pancakes, which sound really good after the day I’ve had. I always crave carbs after a stressful day. Brad orders a burger.

“So Morgan, tell me what you’ve been up to the past few years.”

“After high school I went to the University of Minnesota and got a degree in food science. And now I work at a small company doing product development. Mostly cold cereals. That’s why I’m at the conference. What are
you
doing here?”

“I’m working at one of the booths. I got my MBA last spring and now I’m interning for a company in Chicago. They make the interns work the booth all day. I’m in the marketing department there. They don’t have any full-time openings so I’ve been applying for jobs all over the country. I had an interview last week and I have a couple more coming up.”

As he’s talking, I can see why he got so many girls in high school. He’s really hot, even hotter than he was back then. And the weird thing is, despite his hotness, I find him very easy to talk to. When I used to see him at school, I was too intimidated by his popularity to even say hello to him. In fact, I usually looked down at the floor when he’d pass me in the hall. I was very shy back then.

“What’s with the tan?” I ask as I compare my pale hands to his honey-colored skin.
 

“A few weeks ago I went to Cancun with some friends. I spent five days just hanging out on the beach.”

I imagine him lounging in the sand with a bikini-clad, fake-breasted blond on each arm and a drink in his hand. All I remember hearing about this guy in high school was that he partied hard and had girls lining up to sleep with him.

His phone rings and he answers. “Yeah, I’m at a diner a few blocks from the hotel.” He listens. “No, just go without me. I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He hangs up.
 

“Do you need to be somewhere?” I picture a couple of women waiting outside his hotel room. This guy couldn’t have changed that much from high school. Why would he? He was living every guy’s dream. He’d want to hang on to that life for as long as possible.
 

“Some of my friends from work are going to a club.”

“Okay, I’ll hurry and eat so you can go.”

“Take your time. I’m not going with them. I’ve kind of outgrown the whole club scene.”

“Yeah, right. It wasn’t that long ago you were partying every day of the week and had so many girlfriends you couldn’t remember their names.”
 

I wait for him to laugh, but instead he looks serious. “So you
do
remember me? Well, that was high school, Morgan. I’ve grown up a lot since then.”

I don’t believe him. No guy lets a hot body like that go unused. He’s playing some kind of game with me. Trying to come off as innocent. Pretend he’s someone else now.
 

“Did you stay in touch with Jake, or anyone else from the football team?” I pour more syrup on my pancakes. I feel like a sticky mess but I don’t care. It’s nice to enjoy dinner with a guy without having to worry about every little thing.

“Jake lives in Oklahoma now. Works for a research firm. He just got married.”

I almost choke on my pancakes. “Jake got married? Back in high school, he refused to date a girl for more than a week.”

“People do grow up, Morgan.”

It’s true, but not for people like Jake and Brad. The popular people. They live life to the fullest. Take trips to cool places, like Cancun. Go to clubs. Stay out late. Have golden brown tans in the middle of winter.

“I almost got married a couple years ago,” he says casually.

“You?” I put my fork down. “The guy who had a different girl every night?”

He shakes his head. “Wow. You really can’t get past that whole high school thing, can you? I admit I had my share of girls back then, but that’s what you do at that age. I played football. I didn’t even have to try. The girls came to me.”

There’s the Brad I know. I knew the rumors about him had to be true. And I’m sure his college years were even wilder than high school.

“I met this girl, Jessica, my junior year of college and we got serious. We were supposed to get married after graduation.” He crumples up his napkin and drops it on his empty plate. “Anyway, it didn’t work out.”

“What happened?” I regret asking the question as soon as I say it because I’m sure it’s a sensitive topic and it’s really none of my business.

“She had someone else on the side. I’d rather not talk about it.”
 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

The diner is almost empty now and one of the workers is cleaning tables and getting ready to mop the floors. I finish eating and we head back to the hotel.